


Razed by Wolves

by Sinfel (Felrott)



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Dubious Consent, Father/Son Incest, Gladiators, Incest, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:35:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28391772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felrott/pseuds/Sinfel
Summary: Determined to track down the other half of Varian Wrynn’s soul, Anduin finds himself as the unwilling prize in an illegal gladiator arena.-----((TW; incest, in case you didn't read the tags ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ))
Relationships: Anduin Wrynn/Varian Wrynn, Lo'Gosh/Anduin Wrynn
Comments: 7
Kudos: 24





	Razed by Wolves

**Author's Note:**

> You ever set out to write uhh *check notes* scenting and feral Lo'Gosh animalistic incest PWP and you end up with... not that? #relateable
> 
> Oh god it's gonna be multi-chaptered fml... ALSO it's 100% Lo'Gosh/Anduin while Varian remains a separate entitiy, but tagging on rarepairs is hard enough as it is y'know, just gotta get it in the tag it belongs in...
> 
> Nothing that explicit this chapter btw, but soon lol
> 
> CW: dubcon touching, Anduin is out of his mind with near heat stroke/exhaustion, references to drugging and prostitution

A bead of sweat dripped down Anduin’s brow, prickling and itchy as it drew a path in the dust and sand that stuck to him like a second skin. Even if he had the strength to move, there was little point in wiping it away; a new bead would inevitably dew up in its place, and another, and another. It was a small mercy that, in the heat of the sun, they evaporated quickly enough, though it left his skin feeling tight and dry.

He’d long given up the attempt to keep his loose hair out of his face, and just tried to ignore the way it stuck uncomfortably to his brow and the back of his neck. It was a minor annoyance, in the scheme of things, when his entire body ached with a feverish sort of fatigue, and his head pounded with the booming noise and stifling heat from the arena below.

It was harder to ignore the way his bare legs burned, sticking to the metal floor and bars of the small cage he dangled in, secured somehow to a gangway that cut across the open top of the domed arena. The cage was squat, designed for livestock, and he was forced to kneel, or curl up in the tight space. He could at least stretch his legs, if he poked his skinny ankles through the gaps in the bars, but it felt oddly vulnerable, and he tried to put it off as long as he could, until the cramping in his legs and hips started to hurt, and he had no choice but to muster the energy to move.

At least the open top allowed some of the stifling heat to escape the arena, but wherever he’d been taken, there was little to no breeze on the wind, and the air inside the arena was humid and still. Whoever ran the ring had at least seen fit to erect sails and canopies to protect the audience from the relentless sun but, dangling in the centre, the prize on show for all to see, Anduin had no such protection. He could only hope he might find a salve for his inevitable sunburn, if the lack of water didn’t kill him first.

He could hear footsteps on the gangway above him, dragging and so heavy that the metal shook, causing Anduin’s stomach to lurch in fear that it would collapse, but it held strong enough. Occasionally someone might shout or jeer at him from the gangway, though it seemed to only be used by whatever security detail the arena hired, and Anduin supposed it made sense that the guards—and therefore Anduin himself—had the best view of the fights below, where beasts and fighters circled and fought for the entertainment of the crowd around them.

He couldn’t see the full extent of the audience hidden under the shades, but the roars were deafening, and the smell of sweat and blood reached him, even as high up as he was. It stuck in the back of his throat, made him nauseous and light-headed, and he might have emptied his stomach already, if he’d had anything inside him to bring up. Anduin didn’t know how long he’d been captured for, but the food that occasionally came his way had been little more than mouthfuls of bread and meat, with just enough water to survive on. 

His tongue felt swollen in his mouth, his eyes throbbed in his skull, and he could barely distinguish the words screamed around him, an unintelligible mix of Orcish and Common, Thalassian and Gutterspeak. He swore he’d heard even Darnassian, but the crowd of faces was out of focus, too blurred and too many for him to look hopefully for kin, or allies, amongst them.

Anduin heard a yell, a slice and a thud, and knew by now to cover his ears just as the crowd erupted into another frenzy. He wanted to close his eyes to the bloodbath below him, but he couldn’t, could only slump in his tiny cage, half naked and pitiful as he took in the blurry scene of carnage. He couldn’t seem to make heads or tails of the fighting pit rules; it seemed like a rough mix of professional gladiators fighting for glory, as well as a good number of slaves fighting for gold to line their masters’ purses.

There didn’t seem to be any limits either, and no indication for which matches were to the death or simply to yield, but maybe there was a pattern he couldn’t see in his half delirious state.

Below, the winner posed and roared with the crowd, while attendants hurried to drag the corpse away, another trail of blood left in the sand. It felt like there was no end to the fighting, always another pair, or group, or monster to take centre stage, and as the sun rose ever higher, Anduin could only curl up and tuck himself smaller, both hoping and dreading the end of it all. Every murder, every grunt and scream brought someone closer to the prize at the end of the day; Anduin.

Anduin, who’d gone searching alone after hearing of a stranger’s existence. Anduin, who’d left his father - the diplomatic and noble King Varian Wrynn - to search for the King’s rumoured... other. The other, who had been the worst of him, who had been purged in a magical mistake, who Varian had flourished without. 

Varian had told Anduin his other half had fled, and was likely fine, out in the world by himself. It  _ had _ been over a decade after all, but... Anduin couldn’t leave it alone. His questions and research had brought him to a secret place, and got him a damp cloth against his mouth, and a bag over his head for his efforts.

Anduin cursed his own stupidity, but refused to wallow, forcing himself to try and think beyond the screaming and the pounding in his head, and the fear in his throat every time a match ended and another began. Someone down there would win the prize of _ him _ , and he had no way to know who it would be, or if he’d be able to escape from them.

_ ‘We’ll teach this little spy everything he needs to know about the pits,’ _ the ringleader had spitefully told the bruisers who’d brought him in. He wasn’t even the main prize, just an added treat for the winner, of a game Anduin didn’t know the rules to. He couldn’t help but wonder if it would have been better, or worse, if they’d known his identity, if his protective father had ever let his face be known more to the world outside the Keep. At least, he had to tell himself, he was alive. No matter what happened to him, he had the Light and his life, and as long as he survived… 

_ He had to survive. _

The morning drew on, until the sun was high in the sky, and Anduin’s vision started to black out if he turned or dropped his head too fast. Slumped against the hot bars, he could only watch as the fights seemed to drag on, with better fighters and longer matches. Monsters were brought out occasionally, huge beasts that Anduin had only ever seen in books. The scent of blood mingled with the stench of beasts and waste, and no amount of sand covering the gore helped with the smell.

He had the muddled thought, that for such an illegal and supposedly ‘underground’ activity, there was obviously some serious gold going into it. He’d expected a basement, or clearing in a woods somewhere, not a full arena with seating stands and betting booths, gangways and an announcer box. It must have been magically concealed in some way, though he couldn’t straighten his thoughts enough to think how.

His mind drifted, and he blinked and blearily refocused to watch two fighters circling below. A naga this time, and a human or orc, he couldn’t tell from the armour. The fight started and he blinked. When he managed to drag his eyes open again, it was a different match. A dwarf and a human, holding their own against each other. He hoped whoever won him spoke Common; he wasn’t sure he could think well enough to beg for his life in Orcish right now.

His eyes slipped shut, and when he woke, it was dark above him, but the ring below was well lit with magical and electrical lighting, the type he’d seen around Ironforge and the Dwarven District enough to know it was expensive, and dangerous to run. The sand seemed cleaner, the crowd almost quiet, and Anduin wondered if there’d been some sort of break in the matches. He tried to swallow, but gave up when his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. There was a distant ache in his leg, that he knew he should stretch out, but even the thought was too much effort, and he sagged in his cage and stared into the ring, waiting for it all to be over.

* * *

“—start the pro bouts—” Anduin blinked as the announcement woke him up, louder than it had been during the day. It was a different voice, with a neutral accent Anduin couldn’t place, but it was hard to hear under the static fizz of the machine that amplified it, and he supposed it didn’t really matter. “—first match, Granzig’s old wolf,  _ Lo’Gosh _ ! Versus Grimhorn, the  _ Skullsplitter _ !”

The words meant nothing to him, but the sudden jeering and heckling from the crowd drew his attention enough to force his eyes open, just in time to watch a human stagger out into the ring, all but shoved by heavily armed handlers. He was broad shouldered, wearing only trousers and boots, but the flash of the metal collar around his neck drew Anduin’s eye, despite the mane of dark hair that threatened to cover it.

Anduin couldn’t make out details, he could barely focus enough to see one human in the ring below, and not the shifting image of two, but somehow he knew, deep within his heart and soul that this was him. His father-but-not. A facet of the man he loved, ripped apart and abandoned. Varian had told Anduin that the man was alive and well, but how could he be  _ well _ , if Anduin had found him here, jeered at and heckled, prodded into the ring to fight against… against…

Anduin had never seen such a huge tauren before; half again as tall as Lo’Gosh, his armour was spiked and bulky, yet he moved in it with grace, working the crowd and shifting their jeers to cheering and applause for himself. Anduin could just about squint enough to see the sharp metal points on the end of his horns, and the spikes attached to his hooves.

His gut sank. Anduin struggled to sit up properly, to watch as Lo’Gosh dragged his heels to the centre point of the ring and ready his weapon, waiting for the tauren to finish working the crowd and meet him in the middle.

_ A gladiator. _ Anduin’s informant had said, but he’d never expected anything like this. He’d expected a seasoned warrior, like the knights and paladins who sparred in the rings of the Keep’s training grounds. Or even the rougher sort, the brawlers Anduin had seen when sneaking into bars at night, disguised and wary, but desperate to escape for a bit.

_ Lo’Gosh _ , this ‘old wolf’… was little more than a bait dog. A warm up act. Anduin felt the bile rise in his throat, when he realised Lo’Gosh would lose, and Anduin would be taken away by some unknown fighter. Everything would have been for nothing.

No. Not  _ nothing _ . He tried to focus. Below, the fight had begun, Lo’Gosh and the tauren were circling, waiting for the other to make the first move. Anduin couldn’t concentrate, but he had to calm down, to stay hopeful. If Anduin was taken by the tauren, he’d escape, and the next time he found Lo’Gosh, he’d know what to expect. 

His breathing evened out, but he was still dizzy, and still couldn’t even see what was happening below. The tauren moved first, he thought, and Lo’Gosh defended; his defence and attacks were flawless, but even Anduin could see there was no fire in them, no drive to do more than hold his ground and wait for the match to be over. It was obvious to the crowd as well, and the heckling rose again as Lo’Gosh shrugged off another hit, but didn’t retaliate for an obvious opening.

Grimhorn shouted something, some insult Anduin was sure, but he couldn’t make out the words over the crowd. Whatever it was, it had Lo’Gosh re-adjust the grip on his sword, but he still didn’t attack. It was the wrong choice; clearly angry, the tauren stopped his circling, and began to swing his mace furiously, the insulting attacks became full blown, forcing Lo’Gosh to dodge and parry properly. Anduin couldn’t see the wounds, but there was fresh blood on the sand, and he could only assume it was the human’s.

And then, a move Lo’Gosh could clearly dodge if he wanted to, aimed right for his head. But Anduin watched him falter, watched his sword drop a fraction, so that if he didn’t step away, he wouldn’t survive.

Anduin acted without thinking, drawing on the Light with all the strength he could muster, but its answer was weak, a tingle in his chest that faded almost instantly. The warmth didn’t fill him as it should, didn’t respond to his whims and will. Instead, in his fear and pain and weakness, the void answered and the Shadow he tried so hard to keep at bay slipped  into his mind , and offered him  _ everything _ . There would be a price, he was certain, but he couldn’t let his father—couldn’t let  _ Lo’Gosh _ die. He  felt the power, and took it, grabbed  at it with whatever he could, held it back from taking him over, and forced it under his control.

It responded effortlessly, sank into him like it  _ belonged _ , and when his only thought was  _ ‘stop him _ ’, it seemed to know what to do.  He felt it tangle with himself as he reached out, felt his mind brush against the tauren’s. It was unguarded, and would have been so  _ easy _ to just slip inside and  _ take _ , but he knew he had to keep Lo’Gosh safe; if his opponent was seen to fall to shadow magic, who knew what would happen to Lo’Gosh.

Instead he  dipp ed in and out again with a soft pull, a slight tug on a thread of consciousness, just enough to have t he tauren stumble and grab his head, a stab of sharp pain. The opening was obvious, and Lo’Gosh was forced to back away, lest it be clear he was trying to lose.

Anduin came back to himself with a rush, every fibre of his being fighting for control, to keep the darkness contained and at bay. He could barely force it into submission, weak as he was, and it took everything in him to stay conscious, to banish it back to where it would wait for him to call on it again. His hands trembled as he tried to sit up, and he was distantly aware of pain as his head fell slack against the bars, but he was already drifting, finally pushed beyond his body’s limits.

He could barely hear the roar of the crowd, but he knew the tauren had won. He had no idea what had happened, just that the last thing he saw with unfocused eyes, was the image of his father on his back, yielding to the sword at his throat. He blinked, managed to drag his eyelids open just in time to see his father being put back in chains. He blinked again, and never saw the next match.

* * *

The water was warm when it was dumped on his prone form, and he startled awake with a small noise. Moving even slightly had his head throbbing, and he couldn’t help but try and curl into a ball, desperate for it to stop, but the foot at his back had other ideas.

“Get him up,” the words were in Orcish, and it took Anduin a moment to understand them. “Thought Mixie was meant to be keeping him watered?”

“She told me it was Grindle?”

“Fucking goblins… I said get him  _ up _ , come on.” Anduin was dragged from the small cage and pulled to his feet, swaying heavily and unable to see who was in front of him. They were large, and blue-skinned, but that hardly helped narrow it down. There was a pain in his wrists, and he looked down to realise that they’d tied a rough rope around them, holding them together, and the blue hand tugging to check the tie nearly had Anduin falling over.

He barely had a moment to think of protesting, when something was shoved roughly against his lips, and he whined and tried to fight it, until he felt the water filling his mouth; he guzzled it down through instinct alone, and made a truly pathetic noise when it was taken away.

“More later.” One of them spoke in rough common, and Anduin distantly knew it made sense, but he wanted to cry, to beg,  _ anything _ for more water for his parched mouth and throat.

Hands at his waist startled him from his thoughts of water, but the shock was short lived; he’d only been given a sash of cloth to wear, and thick, deft fingers simply pulled it back into place and tucked the knot tighter. He was almost thankful.

“You move.” A heavy hand at his back pushed him, and it was only another hand at his shoulder that kept him from falling flat on his face. They gave him a few seconds to get his feet under him, but shoved him along the moment he was ready. At least it was darker now, and he could peek his eyes open without the brightness of the sun burning into his skull.

For the briefest of moments, he realised he was in the ring, and his captors led hi m to a gate at the side , before taking him through it and leading him below the arena . The sudden cool of the air hit him like a wave, but he didn’t have any time to enjoy it; he was dragged through twist and bending corridors, past holding areas with slaves and animals alike, as well as more open rest areas, where gladiators and handlers checked wounds and relaxed, or prepared for what was coming next. He wasn’t able to look for long, as he was pulled along at a fast pace that had him concentrating on keeping on his feet. The massive blue form in front, a troll he realised now, had long legs and a fast pace, and showed no intention of slowing down for some human slave.

Anduin was dragged to a small room, where a gnome sat checking over a stack of paperwork, and a human leaned against a desk, seemingly nonplussed by the angry old orc who was spitting insults at him. Anduin recognised the human’s voice immediately, though he’d been drugged when he was last brought before him; the ringleader, the one who’d sealed Anduin’s fate with a click of his fingers and a cruel glint in his eye. He seemed amused to see Anduin, and gave him a once over that had Anduin blushing and trying to hide behind his hair. The ringleader gestured at him and turned to the old orc.

“That troll of yours won him, so take him. There’s no cash value, it was in the terms of the competition, Granzig.” The human had an easy posture, but there was a tenseness to his shoulder that didn’t bode well if the orc—Granzig—stepped out of line. He seemed to know it too.

The orc, old and white haired, had a walking stick, and enough scars peeking from his loose clothes that Anduin couldn’t tell what was scar tissue and what was unblemished skin. He looked furious.

“And what am I supposed to do with this? He’d die in the first round.” He sneered as he took in Anduin’s form, from the extensive scarring from his ill-begotten trip to Pandaria, to the way he could barely stand. “Scraps you found in a heap aren’t a prize! You’re getting cheap!”

“Train a better dog, and place some bets. Or sell him to a brothel for all I care,” he shrugged, “you knew the prize pool when you signed your dogs up, so  _ take  _ it, and get out of my  _ sight _ .” He pointedly stood up, and barely looking from his papers, the gnome held out a sheet of paper, that Anduin could only assume had something to do with him written on it. Granzig snatched it with a snarl, and strode out as angrily as he could, walking stick be damned. The blue troll hurried after him, and Anduin had no choice but to turn and follow, and try to ignore the leer the ringleader shot him on the way out.

“Idiot,” the orc seemed to be speaking to himself, but the troll nodded along anyway. “Doubt even a brothel would have him, all skin and bones… Barely worth the meat.” Anduin tried not to falter at his words, tried to keep up the ruse that he couldn’t understand him at all, but he couldn’t help but stumble.  _ Deep breaths, _ he told himself.  _ Play the fool. _ And, if it came to it, perhaps a... brothel, would be easier to escape. His stomach flipped. He wanted to throw up.

He refused to think about it. Kept his eyes on his feet, and made sure he put one foot in front of the other. They walked back through the maze under the arena, but Anduin was in no mood for curiosity now.  _ Keep your head down _ , he told himself. Maybe this Granzig wouldn’t sell him if he seemed compliant and easy to handle, and he might have a better hope of escape if it were just him and his troll.

At least the ground under his feet was cool, though his relief died quickly as they turned a corner around a stack of crates, and he saw they were heading outside again. Even in the dark, the sands outside were hot, and he had to step awkwardly as he followed along, but he tried to calm himself, and focus on how nice the fresh air was.  _ Don’t panic. Stay calm _ . He looked around but realised he had no idea where he was.

The dread threatened to rise but he swallowed it down, as he was tugged to some sort of holding area, where a massive kodo drank lazily from a trough, and a cage-wagon sat nearby. Any further detail was lost at the sight of four armed handlers shouting and pulling on heavy chains connected to the collar and cuffs of a roaring, angry Lo’Gosh.

Anduin’s feet stopped, and no amount of tugging on his bonds would make him move, until a hard yank on the rope pulled him forcefully into the clearing.

Lo’Gosh roared, straining against his restraints, and Anduin saw his heavy boots leave skids marks in the sand before the handlers found the strength to pull back. It was like watching a captured wild beast, so furious and strong, it was a wonder how they even kept him contained. If he’d shown even an  _ ounce _ of this fight in the ring, Anduin knew he could have beaten every challenger who appeared before him.

“Idiots! Why isn’t he in his cage?!” Granzig shouted, and whatever faults the old orc might have held, fear didn’t seem one of them. Lo’Gosh looked feral, no trace of a man behind his eyes, just a wild beast. The orc didn’t seem to care. “Oh,  _ now  _ you show some fight! Where was this when my gold was on the line?!”

He shuffled up to Lo’Gosh, heedless of the man’s warning growl, a deep, rumbling noise Anduin had never heard a human make before. Without hesitating, the orc took his stick and swung it at Lo’Gosh’s legs, right to the side of the knee. Anduin stumbled as he tried to move closer, but the troll kept a good hold of him, and all Anduin could do was stand and watch as the orc hit Lo’Gosh again, and again, until his leg finally gave out and he fell to one knee.

“Ripped off I was,“ Granzig all but shouted. Behind him, the troll rolled his eyes, and Anduin could only assume he’d heard this before. “’Won me enough gold to retire on’, ‘deadliest human in Kalimdor’, lies! If you were really a  _ wolf _ ,” The orc spat at the floor, barely missing Lo’Gosh, and jabbed the end of his stick into his side, all while the troll mouthed along behind him. “I’d have put you down years ago. Gotten some gold back for the pelt and meat at least.”

Lo’Gosh snarled when the stick jabbed him again, and for a moment Anduin thought the chains wouldn’t hold, but as much as he strained and fought, they held tight.

“Useless!” The next jab became a hit to the back of his head when Lo’Gosh made the mistake of lunging again, no matter how futile it might be. Anduin had to force the Light away when the blood began trickling down Lo’Gosh’s forehead, and could only turn away when the orc hit his slave again. It didn’t stop the sounds though, the horrific crack and grunt and snarling, over and over until the old orc’s breathing laboured from the strain. When Anduin peaked an eye open, he couldn’t stop the noise in his throat.

Lo’Gosh, still holding himself upright but swaying on his knee, grit his teeth and braced for the next blow. It came down awkwardly on his back, aimed poorly and with too much of the orc’s weight behind it, so that Granzig stumbled, nearly fell himself, and seemed to blame his slave for that as well.

Lo’Gosh finally closed his eyes when the orc raised the stick high again, and Anduin could see the end, his death at the hands of an angry slaver, undignified and anonymous. Just another dead body in the sands.

“Father…” Anduin couldn’t stop the quiet gasp of noise, couldn’t stop from stepping forward again only to be pulled back by the rope at his wrists. He regretted the slip immediately when the troll looked his way, and even Granzig glanced over his shoulder, lowering the stick in his raised hand just slightly.

_ “‘Father’, _ hm?” The orc gave him a calculating look, judged his face and looked down at Lo’Gosh thoughtfully. “His seed never seemed to take but... maybe before. Hm.” He muttered to himself, distracted, and maybe later Anduin would lie awake thinking about potential brethren forced from his father, but for now he had to do something, anything.

“Please, don’t hurt him.” He put on a pathetic expression, tried to pretend he was just some weak bastard child looking for his father. The orc sneered, and rolled his eyes, but it seemed to be enough to distract him from the man breathing so heavily at his feet. Even Lo’Gosh was looking at Anduin through his hair, one eye bloodied and shut, and the other piercing Anduin with it’s sharp gaze.

“Tch, get him in the cage already, I don’t have time for this. As for you,” he switched to common, and rounded on Anduin. “Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t, but if you survive, I’ll deal with you later. Like I needed another useless mouth to feed.”

The orc stood back as the four guards dragged Lo’Gosh to the cage, hedging him in until the only place for him to escape was into it. Even then, he fought back weakly, teeth bared and snapping at the handlers.

Anduin choked on a noise when one, a tauren, brought up a massive fist, and punched his father in the gut, winding him, and again, until he finally slumped and tried to get away. They let him fall back into the open door of the wagon, and all four of them grabbed his legs and pushed, dodging the last few kicks.

“Need a damned mage for this...” The troll holding Anduin’s chains muttered, but pulled him forward quickly, pushing Anduin into the open door of the wagon before his father had even crawled to his knees, and slamming it behind him, almost catching his foot. The heavy clunks of padlocks locked behind him, Anduin swore he could feel each click in his chest.

He managed to pull himself to his knees, and backed up against the door before Lo’Gosh managed to get himself up, and though he couldn’t take his eyes off Lo’Gosh, Anduin saw the orc in his peripheral, wiping the sweat from his brow, “Don’t kill this one Lo’Gosh. Might even be yours, ha!”

Lo’Gosh didn’t act like he heard, simply drew himself up to his knees and growled low in his throat at Anduin cowering by the door. The wagon was narrow, too low for either of them to stand, and just long enough that Lo’Gosh might be able to lie down, but the beast of a man loomed in the small space, leaving Anduin nowhere to run, even if he thought he could escape.

He scrambled into the nearest corner, feet kicking up old straw in his haste. The iron bars of the wagon’s cage hit his back far too soon, and Lo’Gosh only looked angrier, slamming a fist against the only solid wall of the wagon and snarling out a noise. Anduin tried to call the Light, but it was weak in his hand, a warmth that fizzled when he tried to grasp onto it. He felt dizzy, but couldn’t let himself close his eyes, just tried to focus. The two wavering images of Lo’Gosh slipped into one solid person again, and Anduin blinked to find him close.

Too close. 

The inhuman rumble rose in Lo’Gosh’s chest, and Anduin could feel it reverberate in his own. He could see the flecks in Lo’Gosh’s eyes, the blown pupil in his left eye as Lo’Gosh forced it open despite the blood and swelling. The scars on his face were ugly, ragged and healed wrong, and Anduin knew they must pull whenever he frowned or smiled. Anduin couldn’t blink, couldn’t risk looking away for even a second.

“Please…” He rasped, tucking himself as small as he could. Lo’Gosh didn’t seem to hear him. Anduin could feel the heat radiating from his naked chest, smell the sweat and blood. A huge hand reached for him, stained with blood from his beating, and grabbed Anduin by the shoulder, dragging him from his corner and into the man’s chest.

His plea died on his lips as his face hit Lo’Gosh’s chest, the smell of him overwhelming as the hand at his shoulder refused to let him pull away. He struggled, and immediately stopped when the warning growl rumbled through the chest under his cheek.

“Fath— _ Lo’Gosh _ ? Please…” He wasn’t sure what he was asking for, but he didn’t expect the answer to be an ill-tempered huff, and for Lo’Gosh to sink his face into his hair.

He froze, awkward in the man’s tight grip as he rubbed his nose against Anduin’s head, and breathed deeply. The rumble in his chest that time sounded more like a purr, and only continued as Lo’Gosh dragged his face down to Anduin’s neck, and scented him deeply. Anduin shivered as the breath tickled his neck. The hand at his shoulder only moved to pull him closer, into Lo’Gosh’s lap fully, so he could nuzzle and breath deeply, and Anduin felt him almost seem to relax under him.

It lasted barely a minute, before the tentative peace was disrupted.

“—the hell is this?” Anduin couldn’t move his head to see, but he could only assume the handlers were still loitering around the cage.

“Weird. Go tell Granzig his pet wolf’s acting strange.” At least two of them remained then, watching whatever was happening. Anduin felt the shame rise like a distant wave, but he was too weak to acknowledge it properly. Here, tucked close to a broad chest and surrounded by warmth, his body seemed to think it fine to finally stop fighting, and let the exhaustion of the week catch up to him.

“You smell so familiar…” The rough words startled him, even though they were all but rasped against his throat, and Anduin couldn’t stop the strangled noise when Lo’Gosh licked a wet stripe from neck to jaw. “Taste like…” Another lick, and another, along his jaw, and up the side of his face, like Lo’Gosh was some sort of giant dog, and Anduin a toy or— or a puppy to be groomed.

“My name’s Anduin.” He whispered back, hoping to trigger some sort of memory, but Lo’Gosh didn’t seem to care, just nuzzled and licked, and Anduin tried not to squirm at the strange sensation. “I’m… your son? Don’t you remember?” 

Lo’Gosh pulled back just enough to look at him, to take in his face, and Anduin couldn’t help but blush under the scrutiny.

“Never had pups… Never took…” His voice was distant, like he wasn’t really there, and he buried his face back into Anduin’s neck and breathed deep, licking another stripe up the side of his neck. “You  _ taste _ …”

“I taste like sweat, I’m sure.” Anduin tried to keep the conversation going. “And I know I can’t smell good, it’s been… days.” But Lo’Gosh didn’t seem to care, just moved to the other side of his neck, and began his scenting again, licking another stripe clean and humming loudly enough for Anduin to feel it.

It was almost easy to relax into it, when Anduin had no strength left for anything else, no matter how strange or inappropriate it was. His father-but-not, scenting him like a dog; he knew he should put a stop to it, but he was just so tired and— 

The noise Anduin made was undignified, more of a whine than any real sound, when one of Lo’Gosh’s huge hands slipped from his back, lower, and lower, into the dishevelled cloth at Anduin’s waist. His flailing was weak, and Lo’Gosh was too strong, no matter the beating he’d taken. The huge hand, hot and calloused, grabbed his ass, and pulled Anduin up, until his thighs were stretched wide over Lo’Gosh’s lap. Anduin could feel Lo’Gosh’s hardness straining in the ratty leather trousers against his stomach.

He had no idea what to do. Never in his wildest thoughts could he have planned for this, at no point had he even considered this could happen. The world blurred at the edges, and he fell onto Lo’Gosh’s chest with a grunt.

“Wait, no you’re— you can’t!” Anduin couldn’t move, and he couldn’t stop the hand from squeezing his ass, and probing between his cheeks. Lo’Gosh’s fingers were hot and determined as they rubbed over his tight hole, pressing and testing the give, of which Anduin was certain there was none. He didn’t know what to do, or say to get Lo’Gosh to stop and listen to him.

“We can’t…” his protest was weak, and his struggles weaker still when Lo’Gosh repositioned them, with Anduin’s back against the bars of the cage, and Lo’Gosh’s thick thigh pressed high between Anduin’s legs, forcing him to straddle it. He couldn’t get his feet under him, was forced to rest his entire weight on Lo'Gosh's leg. He writhed, Lo’Gosh’s finger at his ass was making him tip forward, and he tried to stop the press of his own weight against his balls, and ignore it when his tired body responded, a tiny pooling of pleasure amongst the pain.

“Why not?” Lo’Gosh bit up his neck to lick at Anduin’s ear, his hushed voice sending tingles down the back of Anduin’s neck. The finger at his ass rubbed insistently, and Anduin couldn’t help but arch into the simple pleasure of it, no matter how much he knew it was wrong.

“F-father, you’re my— ah! Please, I—!” A finger pushed in, just the tip, but enough to have Anduin squirming and rutting against the thick thigh between his legs. He could barely hear, barely see. His own cock was half hard, and the sash around his waist was slipping. There was ringing in his ears, a haze to the edge of his vision. He wasn’t sure he’d survive whatever Lo’Gosh wanted to do to him.

“Maybe, maybe not. Doesn’t matter much here.” He buried his face in Anduin’s neck, inhaled and moaned. “I  _ know  _ this taste… this scent…”

Anduin couldn’t find the words to reply, but his silence was apparently answer enough for Lo’Gosh to grab him tightly, and change their position. Anduin’s head swam, and he felt on the verge of blacking out, but the thigh between his legs disappeared, changed to solid wood and straw under his ass, and a lack of bars at his back. Dimly, he realised Lo’Gosh must have removed his finger, but it didn’t hurt, if anything he felt... empty. He almost wanted it back. 

He was against the back of the cage-wagon, Anduin realised blearily, where the single solid wall offered something to lean against. With Lo’Gosh crouched in front of him, blocking Anduin from view of anyone, he felt strangely… safe.

His head knocked back against the wall listlessly, and he tried to focus on the man before him. It was hard, his head pounded and he couldn’t concentrate.

There was a mouth at his neck, and Lo'Gosh's knees between his thighs, splaying him open, pulling the sash of cloth up and exposing him, exposing the shame of being almost hard, just from his not-father touching him. A hand at his chest thumbed over a nipple, and Anduin moaned weakly at the bolt of pleasure, but couldn’t do more then let his head roll, and try to bat weakly at Lo’Gosh’s arm.

“Father…” His voice was little more than a whisper, but something in it must have finally caught Lo’Gosh’s attention. He pulled back with a huff, but his complaint seemed to die in his throat when he took in Anduin’s limpness, the way he could barely keep his eyes open.

Golden eyes looked over him, scrutinising every inch of Anduin’s face. Anduin couldn’t hide, could only lean into Lo’Gosh’s hand when he cupped his jaw, and moved Anduin’s head side to side, inspecting him for who knew what.

“You’re in pain.” Lo’Gosh finally said, like he’d only just realised the extent of Anduin’s exhaustion.

“Mm… so are you.” It hurt to speak, to think.

“Used to it.” Lo’Gosh half shrugged, and Anduin could believe he truly didn’t care. It hurt to consider, but thinking was beyond him right now; he couldn’t even name the flash of emotion that crossed Lo’Gosh’s face, and twisted the scar across his nose. “Did they give you water?  _ Bastards— _ ”

The warmth seemed to disappear as Lo’Gosh left Anduin against the wall of the cage, and dimly he was aware of voices talking in an unfriendly tone. There was arguing, and then the neck of a waterskin was pressed to Anduin’s mouth, a hand at his head helped him drink the water slowly. It was warm, but it felt blissful, and all too soon it was taken away.

“You can have more, if you don’t throw it up.”

“Hmm…” In a daze, Anduin stared at the man above him. His father. Not his father. It was confusing, and he couldn’t get his thoughts in line. There was a cut on the man’s forehead though, and it stirred something in Anduin, an instinct. He reached up without thinking, and couldn’t work out why Lo’Gosh’s breath hitched when Anduin touched his cheek, cupping it like Lo’Gosh had cupped his. “You’re hurt…”

“Yeah, I told you I’m—” Lo’Gosh’s cut off with a soft gasp as the Light finally answered Anduin’s call, warming his palm as he pushed the gentle wave of healing magic into the skin under his fingertips. The cut on Lo’Gosh’s forehead closed, slower than Anduin thought it should, but the reason why was beyond him. A large hand caught his as it slipped, and held his pale fingers to Lo’Gosh’s bloody cheek. He was saying something, his mouth moving, his eyes stared at Anduin like he was… surprised. He didn’t know why, his father knew he was a priest after all.

Maybe he’d forgotten. Anduin would just have to remind him when he woke up.

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to [redacted] for beta-ing~ <3


End file.
